Note: This is my first fanfic of any kind, so it would be very helpful to receive any comments. Also, this is just a general story; it's not set after a specific episode.
Pairings: A bit of Grissom/Sara romance: implied shared living quarters
Rating: M for strong language and violence
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own anything besides any unfamiliar characters (Daniel and Lauren Adams). -sniffles-
Chapter 1
"Ok, guys, assignments," Gil Grissom announced in the doorway of the break room. The CSIs on the night shift all looked up, waiting for their slip of paper that told them what they were going to do. "Warrick and Sara, 419 in Henderson. Looks like the teenage son went berserk and killed his family: mom, dad, and three sisters." He handed the paper to Warrick and the two left, already thinking of reasons that he might have done it.
"He was sniffing something that night, I'm telling you," Sara's voice came echoing down the hall. "There's no other reason." Warrick laughed.
Grissom turned back around and shuffled through the papers. "Nick, you got a 10-45C. A hospital patient died in police custody. You're supposed to go interview the involved officers and see why the patient was there in the first place."
"Thank you, very much, Grissom, for always giving me the exhilarating cases," Nick said with a mock-excited face.
"Well, just be thankful you got any case at all," Grissom called to Nick's retreating back. He turned to the last remaining CSI: Catherine Willows.
"Let me guess. I get to go take a report from some drunken hobo that crawled into an open house window," Catherine said with her arms crossed.
"Actually, no," Grissom replied with a raised eyebrow. "A fifteen-year-old daughter called in saying she found her mother dead on the stairs. The father came home about five minutes after she called. The daughter said that the dad might have had something to do with it."
"Wow. Score."
"Yeah. At the crime scene it's the regular routine. Brass is taking the girl and the dad in and he'll wait for us to question them." Grissom handed Catherine the paper with the details and glanced up at the clock. "Five minutes sound ok?"
"Sure. Meet me outside my car." With that Catherine waved the paper and walked out the door, humming "Mr. Blue Sky."
Grissom laughed and walked out of the break room and into his office, where countless numbers of specimens in glass jars surrounded him. He walked over to grab his kit and, when he made sure that it was fully stocked, walked back out.
Catherine drove the pair to the crime scene, a two-story house with a large circular driveway. "We want to divide and conquer?" Catherine asked, stepping out of her parked Tahoe.
"Sure, but let's do the stairs first. After that you take first, I take second?" Grissom asked, shutting his door.
"All right, boss." The two made their way up the drive-way, nodding at the police officers who lifted the "Do Not Cross" police tape. A few other CSI interns puttered around the door-way of the house, swabbing here, pictures there. Catherine stifled a laugh when she saw a confused intern just standing, doing nothing. She remembered when she was that low, but she was never that confused.
The two started with the stairs, taking pictures and getting swabs. David, the ever-scared coroner, came in and removed the body so that Grissom could get up the stairs. The second floor was very neat and well-organized. Pictures of the family hung over the walls and Grissom stopped to look at them. One picture had a mom, dad, and two girls. The bigger girl had shiny brown hair and bright blue eyes, and she was smiling like nothing could ever be wrong. But the smaller girl, beautiful with strawberry blonde hair –a bit redder than Catherine's- and soft green eyes, was not giving such a smile. The parents were both smiling like the first girl. Grissom wondered what was wrong.
Continuing down the hallway, Gil stopped when there were two rooms on the left and one on the right. He peeped into one on the left and saw that it had another picture of the red-headed girl in it, so he walked in. The walls were painted a dark purple and on it were hung decorations of all sorts, the most populous being white picture frames. He took his time looking at each photo: some had the girl smiling, some didn't.
Why is this bothering me so much? Grissom asked himself. There's nothing special about her right now. I don't even know if she's the daughter that called it in.
Ignoring his pestering thoughts, Gil walked over to the very organized desk and looked around, opening drawers and flipping through notebooks and textbooks, taking pictures along the way. Opening the last drawer Grissom found a notebook that was covered, front and back, with a collage of different things. The theme seemed to be summer, or something like it. Sensing something special about this book, he opened it up and read an entry in the middle of it.
December 3, 2007
Dear Diary, it read in a normal teenage girl's writing.
Today, when I got home from school, mom was sitting in the corner of the living room, on the couch, crying and holding an ice-pack to her face. I thought about going over to her but then dad came out of the kitchen, seeming a bit drunk. I knew that if I didn't get out of the house he would hit me too so I dropped my backpack and tried to run out. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back in –I can't even write it without crying- and pulled me close to him. I could smell whiskey and I turned my head away, but not before he slapped me. I cried and tried to pull away from him, but he slapped me again and again, and then, with a final punch, let me go. Instead of going outside, where I knew someone would call the police when they saw my face, I ran up to my room, locked the door, and crawled onto the bed and cried. Why does it have to be my family that has this going on? I'm tired of it! It seems like it's every day now that I get hit, and I never do anything wrong. Do I? I miss Alyssa. I know dad had something to do with her moving out so early –she was only 17!- but I don't know what. I don't even know if she's alive anymore. I don't think I'm leaving my room tonight.
Grissom sighed and flipped through the rest of the diary, which was filled with similar entries. He now understood why she –what was her name?- wasn't smiling in the picture while Alyssa was. At least, he thought the reason Alyssa was smiling because she was going to be leaving the house. He took the book and put it in an evidence bag and continued on to the other bedrooms, wondering why so many children are being abused these days.
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Ok, so please review. If I get enough comments I will post the second chapter. Please, if you didn't like it tell me why; same if you did like it. If you find any mistakes, they are all mine.